CHAPTER I. She wore a wonderful dress of turquoise blue, made by a great dressmaker for a function which she knew very well now that she would never attend. Its walled heaved with black mildew and sea-salt. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place. Tonight Lucy doled out outré physiological theories of boys and their overactive hormones. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. “Please don’t,” she said.
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